


Dissidence

by LannaLlamas



Category: Alice in Chains, Nirvana (Band), Pearl Jam, Soundgarden
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, part of a writing challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-01-16 00:49:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18510535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LannaLlamas/pseuds/LannaLlamas
Summary: A collection of short (500-3,000 words) one-shot featuring the boys from the Seattle Grunge scene. I'm using a 50-day writing prompt challenge to complete this, therefore each chapter is standalone and is written about a certain prompt.Warnings: LGBT relationships, mostly mlm ones, swearing, nudity(?) maybe?Feel free to request your pairing and I will write them for the prompts.





	1. Hands - Cheddie

**Author's Note:**

> These will generally be short one-shots.

Day One Prompt: Hands  
Pairing: Eddie and Chris (Cheddie)  
POV: Eddie Vedder's

~•~

Thick fingers curl in my hair, the wristbands worn by the beholder tangle and pull at my curls, but the pain is masked by the pleasure of his company. The hands retract, pulling away from a few strands of hair in the process, they fall to the floor beneath our feet. His hands now rest on my shoulders, they ride down my back and stop at the lowest part of my spine. A shiver seizes me at the touch.

"Your hair smells nice," He nuzzles his chin in the crook of my neck, "What shampoo do you use?"

"Does it matter?" I reach behind me and touch his cheek, they're cold like out weather outside.

"No," He murmurs silently before pulling away from me completely, "I was just trying to make small talk."

He walks to the side of me, his arms rest idly by his hips. His fingers glisten with the number of rings he adorns. I wonder if past lovers gave him the jewelry or if he bought them for himself.

"Small talk is stupid," I glare up at him, but his cheeky grin makes my arrogant attitude crumble. His hand suddenly gets hold of mine, my hand fits perfectly in his palm.

He's sweaty, despite how cold it is in here. Maybe he's nervous, maybe that's why his palms are icky and nauseatingly wet. He squeezes my hand, that same teasing, egging grin cemented on his lips. I curse him and his crystal blue eyes, I curse his godly frame and his black curls. No one deserves to be  _this_ alluring.

"You're a very angry little man, y'know that?" He ends his sentences with a click of his tongue.

"I get told that a lot, not like I care," I avoid his eyes, though I still stay knitted to his side, "I don't care what anyone says about me."

He quirks a brow at my words, his arm lifts our intertwined hands up to his face. Soft lips press gently against my sunkissed skin, my eyes dart open in shock. We have been... on again, off again, but we never really had... moments like this. He kisses the top side of my hand again, near the knuckles.

"Do you care what I think?"

I purse my lips, letting my fingers slip out of his and my hand drops to my side. I don't know if I'm ready for this, maybe Jeff was right about not coming here. Chris' smile falls flaccid against his features though he knows better than to approach me right now.

"Sometimes," I murmur, "I—"

Before I can even finish my sentence, Chris throws his arms open and wraps them around my frail frame. He squeezes hard, I remain stiff in his arms. I feel his hands pat against my back, his crushing force makes it hard to breathe. Thankfully, he retracts.

"I love you, Eddie." He picks the conversation up, a glisten of hope shimmers through behind those blue eyes. Maybe he can change, maybe I can change. Maybe love will find a way, but I don't let myself be intoxicated by the sense of slim hope. Instead, I just stare at the dark haired man wordlessly.

"Prove it." The words fall off my lips, brutal and tainted with past hate. My hands ball into fists, the palms are now as nauseatingly clammy like his.

"Okay," He smiles again, the corners of his cheek dimple ever slightly, "Give me your hand."

I scowl at his demand, we had just been holding hands for the last fifteen minutes.  _Fifteen minutes._ Why would he still want to hold them? They're moist and sweaty, weirdly warm and dewy. Regardless, I find myself lifting my hand and placing it in his open palm. His other hand comes and places itself on top of my hand, cupping the appendage. Great, make our hands even  _more_  sweaty. Fucking gross.

"Eddie," He breathes the words with a huff before placing a gentle kiss against our hands, "I know I've been a shitty boyfriend in the past—"

"Damn right you were—"

"Let me finish," He knits his brow together to scold me but he resumes the gentle posture from before, "I know I treated you shitty, you don't deserve someone like me... but, but I love you."

"Shitty apology," I roll my eyes, "Three times the charm, maybe."

"Okay—" He shakes his head for added effect, pretending to shake the negative thoughts from his head, "I was shitty, the drugs, man, they— they fucked me over and made me lose myself— made me forget about  _you."_

"And?"

"I want you to forgive me, this one last time. I put all the fucking heroin away, I decided to live my life for something more important. I decided to be here... here with you."

God, he's an idiot sometimes. I stare up at him through my eyelashes, I see the nervousness and anxiety portrayed on his pale cheeks. I cave, I shouldn't, but I do. I always do.

"Shitty apology," I snort half-heartedly, "But... But I love you too."

"You forgive me?"

"Sure," Toneless words. I want to believe he's changed, I hope he can. This is his last shot, "I can't stay away from you for long."

Crinkled eyes turn glossy with tears, his arms drop and extend outward to pull me into another hug. Softer than before, his big arms make sure not to squeeze my small body.  He mumbles half-coherent sweet nothings into my ear, as he always does when we make up. I pray to  _whoever the fuck_  is watching us that this is the last time we'll break things apart and beg each other for forgiveness. 

His lips come together and kiss my cheek, he sucks in his lip to make that typical kissy noise that irritates the piss out of me. I crumble, even though I hate all this affection he's spewing out. My arms wrap against his figure, I breathe deeply to get his scent. He smells of cheap cologne or maybe that's his deodorant, I can't really tell. 

"Eddie?"

"Hm?"

"I love you, assface."

"Love you too, dickwad."

I swear I can feel our hearts beat together as one. Maybe,  _just maybe_ , love will prevail just this once.


	2. Sleeves - Jerry x Layne

Day Two Prompt: Sleeve  
Pairing: Jerry Cantrell x Layne Staley   
POV: Layne's

~•~

Tears roll down my cheek, they mix with the raindrops that pitter-patter against my pale skin. My matted, dreadlocked hair weighs heavily on my head, the rain makes my hair dense and just a big mess. I shake my head to myself before letting my head hang off my head. The tour bus sits behind me, the engine died a few hours ago and the repairmen haven't fixed it yet. That's why I'm out here, sitting lonely and cold against a barren tree.

Depression sunk in last night in my sleep. It started with the same nightmare that constantly haunts me; it's a surreal moment in which my lifeless, drug disorientated body lays in a pool of my own blood. Jerry was there, too, he was over my dead body and wailing. 'Why, Layne, WHY', he screams in my dream. I wonder if it's my brain knowing how I'm going to die, knowing that I'll be the death of myself. I woke up in a cold sweat last night, the only thing I could do was stuff my comforter in my mouth to hide my sobs as I cried myself to sleep.

I blink back the last few drops of tears that coat my glossy eyes, I lean my head back into the bark of the tree. My body stiffens as I feel arms construct around me, panic ensues. I dart my head over my shoulder to see the perpetrator... then my fear washes away. Jerry's arms are around my body, his head rests on my shoulder.

"What's wrong, dude?" He speaks into my ear. How  _affectionate_ he is, huh?

"Nothing," I sigh before forcing my lips to tighten into a smile. I feel his brow knit together, his eyes watch my tear stained cheeks.

"You're lying," He brings one of his arms up and tucks his hand into the sleeve then he wipes the last stray tears from my cheeks, "Tell me what happened."

"I said it was nothing," I turn my head away from him, feeling vulnerable because he sees me like this, "You shouldn't be out here in the rain."

"Neither should you," His sleeved arms now wrap around my chest, his head still leans against mine, "You're hiding something."

"I—"

"Don't you dare lie to me again, Layne," He glares daggers towards me, "I'm serious."

I exhale harshly before letting my head fall limp against Jerry's. I feel his lips touch my cheek, they're soft and kind. A shiver creeps up my spine as he places another gentle kiss against my wet cheek.

"I just don't feel good, Jer," His sleeve wipes my cheek again, "Had a bad dream, fucked up my day, y'know?"

"Yeah," He nods against my skin, "Just— You'll get through this... don't... don't you dare turn back to the heroin."

My eyes widen at his comment, though he is right. He knows damn well that I turn to the drugs whenever my mind starts to attack itself. His grip tightens on me, I lift my hand to touch his arms.

"I won't," I murmur, "I can't do that, can't hurt myself 'cause I gotta be here with you."

"Damn right you do," His throat rumbles with a snicker, "I can't lose you, Layne."

"I can't lose you either," I turn my head and let my lips grace against his stubble ridden cheek. His arms move again, this time his lanky arms rest atop my shoulders. The sleeves of his black shirt are soft, they caress my skin and make me feel warm against this cold, hard rain. I press my lips against the fabric while sucking my lips to make a kissing noise. He doesn't react to it, though.

"Maybe we should, uh, head back to the bus," He mumbles, half-coherent, "Should be ready to go here soon."

"Why don't we just sit here? Together?" I plead quietly, " _Please?"_

"Sure," He replies in a hushed tone, "As long as we don't get fucking soaked."

My throat quivers with the rumble of laughter. I'm already half-drenched. Being out here for a few hours, the drizzle begins to add up. We sit in silence for a minute, eyes half-closed as the rain slowly continues to pour down. 

"So," I speak up, "I wanna ask you something..."

"Hm?"

"What  _are_ we?"

He purses his lip for a moment, letting the question sit on his brain for a hint of a second. We've never officially made a move, though the way we act is quite....  _homosexual._ This is just one thing that's been sitting on my head for some time.

"Well," He pops his lips together, "What do you think we are?"

"I think we're... I don't fucking knowing, Jerry,  _boyfriends? Lovers?_ ** _Friends with benefits?_** "

Furrowing his brow, Jerry returns back to a contemplative state. He fixates his eyes on the ground, purposely avoiding my gaze. His grip loosens around my shoulders, they almost fall back into his lap.

"I think—" He takes a deep breath, his eyes close shut, "I think... I think we're lovers. We're a fucking  _power couple,_ Layne."

"Power couple?" I snort.

"Uh,  _duh,"_ He shakes his head in a cocky manner, "You kick ass, I kiss ass, we're kick-ass boyfriends."

"I like that," I respond with a simple smile, "I like that a lot."

"I know," Another cocky move of his head and shoulders follows, "I come up with some pretty cool shit, heh?"

I look at him with the 'You're a fucking idiot' look, his nose crinkles in response.

"I love you, Jer," I place a kiss on his cheek, "Even if you're a dumbass."

"I'm not a dumbass, you're just boring and can't accept the fact that I'm  _kickass_ ," He rolls his eyes, "Buuuut, I love you too. You cute little man."

He pinches my cheek, shaking my skin as he does so. Acting like my fucking mother now, I bat his hand away. We laugh together, Jerry snorts some with his laughter. I'm in awe of this man. Not only is he my best friend, but he's my fucking  _boyfriend._ At this moment, I am happy. The tears shed only minutes ago fade, the trauma plaguing my head dissipates and I'm left feeling whole. 


	3. Sand - Stone x Mike

Day Three Prompt: Sand  
Pairing: Stone Gossard  x Mike McCready  
POV: Stone's

~•~

Cigarette smoke stings my nose, ash falls on my leather boots as I flick the bud. The light from my cigarette illuminates the darkened night that blankets over the city of Seattle. The beach especially is dark at this time of night, the water looks like a black abyss. The window howls its words onto the sandy shore, it seems like I'm the only person around to listen. A strong buzz hums through the wind, the nearby light posts finally turn on. The lights inside are old are worn, barely providing a dim yellow light against the shores. I put out my cigarette, throwing the butt into the nearest trash bin. I almost forgot what I came here for.

I take off my boots and set them somewhere in the sand before I shamble over to the shoreline. The wet sands are cold, colder than the air. It's a stupid idea to even get near the water. I turn my eyes back to the crystal-like sand, I bring a hand down to rummage the rocks. A pastel pink shell rests in my hands, a crack scars the middle. I put the shell in my pocket before I continue down the beach. Sand begins to pack together in between my toes, such an uncomfortable feeling. I bend over once more, grabbing at a spiral-shaped shell. Spikes and speckles of sand coat the top layer of the shell. Another beautiful one.

There, a few yards in front of me, stands my boyfriend, Mike. He waves innocently towards me. Soft strands of hair cover a portion of his face, I watch as he stupidly tries to flip them behind his ear. He was different than the other guys of Seattle, genuine and soft; tormented and broken; healing and forgiving. Those are just a few words to describe him, they barely do him any justice though. I put aside my little quest of collecting seashells for just a moment so I can approach him, his lips part in that same cheek-splitting grin that he always shows to me. 

"Hey babe," The words sweetly leave his lips, "I found this shark eye shell, reminded me of you."

He thumbs around in his pocket for the seashell, after a moment or two of him carelessly searching, he finally pulls out the shell. The moonlight reflects off its pearly white coat. I offer Mike a gentle smile as he puts the seashell in my hand, I rub my thumb over the natural creases in the shell. It was smooth like a pebble you'd throw in a lake, it curls in a spiral that stops in the middle. Shark eye, they call them. Doesn't really look like a shark eye, though.

"Thanks," I reply bluntly, "It's pretty, like you~"

He sheepishly rolls his eyes at my stupid affectionate remark. I extend my arms forward and pull him into my chest. He fights at first, he was always very resistant about our public display of affection, but I didn't care. Tonight was our date night and I sure as hell wanted to make this  _ **gay**_. Finally, he gives in and leans into my chest. He looks up at me, those thick eyebrows knit together.

"Why're you being gay?"

"Because I am gay."

"Yeah but--"

"Mike, just accept my love."

He shuts his mouth, but I hear him contently hum as I squeeze his frail frame. His arms prudently wrap against my lower back, he holds me loosely. He felt so fragile in my arms, his body was bone-thin and delicate. Years of drug abuse had degraded his body, he would've been worse if I hadn't of pulled him out of that hell. 

"You know what this moment needs?" Mike looks up at me again. His dark eyes look... suggestive, I smirk instinctively. 

"Hm?" I rumble. 

"Daiquiris."

My smile falls flat, I glare down at him as he utters those words. He was an idiot, but he sure as hell was  _ **MY**_ idiot. He smiles cheekily up towards me, that stupid look makes my smile return.

"Where are we gonna find daiquiris at this hour?" I still hold my glare.

"We could make some at home--"

"No," I shoot him down instantly, "Last time you tried that, you almost broke my blender."

He purses his lips as he tries to think of a solution. I shake my head, telling him nonverbally that every idea he would spew out would be quickly discarded. He giggles before letting his head lean into my chest again.

"You remember New Orleans?" He asks.

"We were there two weeks ago,  _yes_ I remember."

"Jeff took me to this drive-thru daiquiri shop," His words are interrupted by a yawn, "I wish we had one here."

"Well," I flatten my lips, "We  _don't_. So stop craving your daiquiris."

"Ugh," He moans, "You're a party pooper. You're lucky I love you."

I roll my eyes again, but he knows at heart that I'm just playing with him. I squeeze him again, my head leans down to kiss his forehead. He purrs quietly as my lips touch his skin, he lifts his own head, puckering up his lips to invite me in for a true kiss. I oblige, letting our lips dance together for a moment.

"Luckiest man alive," I utter breathlessly as we pull away from the kiss, "You're a pretty  _okay_ boyfriend, I must say."

"Shut up, ass," He snorts, "Kiss me again."

"I thought you didn't like being gay in publ--"

"I said kiss me, dumbass, not argue with me."

Another roll of my eyes follow, but I lean down again to grace his lips. He tastes of salt water and a fruity smoothie we both shared an hour before we left for the beach. I breathe my cigarette stained breath into his lips, he sucks it up greedily. 

"I love you, Stone," He speaks quietly into my lips, "More than you can imagine."

"Love you just as much," I peck his lips one last time, "More than  _you_  can imagine."


	4. Train - Kurt x Dave

Day Four Prompt: Train  
Pairing: Kurt Cobain x Dave Grohl   
POV: Dave's  
A/N: this will have a slightly AUish vibe to it, Dave and Kurt are runaways.

~•~

The train chugs and chugs down the old railroad tracks. These tracks have seen decades of man, their struggle through life. All the way from the time of the California gold rush, seeing many families die from starvation from the lack of money. Now, the train holds Kurt and I. We're on some coming of age story, or maybe we're just two young kids who  _ruined_ their lives by hopping on this train with no set destination. We've done this for months now, running and hiding out on coal trains then jumping off when we hit a city. We're hardened, resilient together.

Kurt was an outcast. His life turned to shambles only a few months after meeting me. Always picked on, his daddy beat him at night, was turned to hard drugs. It was awful, I knew he'd snap. Never told me what happened, but he said we had to leave town for good. Of course, I followed him, stuck to his hip like a dog follows its owner. I should've stayed home, should've stayed at my job. But... I'm here with him, the man of my dreams, and that's all that matters, I guess.

"Where d'ya think this train will end up?" He speaks up against the scratch of metal coming from the railroad beneath our feet. His voice is soft naturally, even when he has to raise his tone for me to hear him.

I force my shoulders to lift with a shrug. His blue eyes reflect a shine of pain, yet he still holds a childlike innocence. He'd always been this way, ever since I first met him. With all the shit he's been through, it's hard to believe he keeps such an innocence. My lips pull into a half-assed smile, I try to coax my lover that I'm just as hopeful as he is.

"Maybe Canada? Or down south, Texas or something. They've got tons of train stations down there for coal."

His lips flatten as the words sit on his head then a soft nod follows. Maybe he's satisfied with that answer, maybe he hopes we won't get dropped off at some shitty small town again. I feel his head shift and his body weight leans against me, his head rests lazily on my shoulder.

I wonder where we'll end up, too. Part of me knows it'll probably be some run of the mill town again, where we're still the outcasts who deserve to be stared at. But his innocence rubs off on me, I hope deep down we end up in New Orleans or Houston. Hell, maybe even D.C.

"Are you happy?" He asks suddenly.

"I'm always happy when I'm with you."

"Bullshit," He snorts, "You always look miserable."

"I'm not," I furrow my brow. Sure, I hated this running away, but getting the chance to be with  _him_ was all I ever wanted, "I promise."

Again the words weigh heavily on him. His eyes drift towards the open train cart door where the sunlight drops in from. The light illuminates his face, those dirty blonde locks of his hair mock the fading gold color of the dusk's final light. I turn my cheek and let my lips touch the pimple-ridden, greasy skin of his forehead. He stays silent for a few minutes after I kiss his temple.

"Why do you stay with me?" He asks as a feeling of betrayal taints his words. I stupidly furrow my brow, only answering with a dumbfounded look.

How do I even respond to a question? A million thoughts bombard my brain. Does he question my love? My loyalty? Does he want me to be gone? Or is he just insecure? I let my mouth hang agape, all I can do is offer a half-thought nod.

"Kurt," I put my chin on his shoulder, careful not to let my bone dig into his delicate flesh, "Why do you let me stay?"

"Because I can't live without you." His words are frail, they tremble out of his shivering lips.

"Then why'd you ask?" A smile tugs at my lips, the faintest hint of cockiness touches it.

I'm answered with a frustrated sigh, I feel his muscles relax and fall limp against my tensed body. He leans in for comfort, I let him bury his head in my chest.

"I dunno Dave," He murmurs, "Just wanted to make sure you still loved me."

"I said I'd love you forever," I coo back towards him, "I'm a man of my word... mostly."

"Mostly," He repeats the words as a mumble of a chuckle finishes his sentence, "You're too much sometimes, Dave."

"I know."

His head touches forward, our lips stir together for a moment's breath. Wet and wanting, our lips continue to bump together. His hand extends forward and brushes a stray lock of hair from my face, my cheeks dimple stupidly, my big teeth shine even with their coffee and wine-stained colors. Again, I feel his lips touch my skin, this time they tease my jawline.

A moment of peace washes over the land, it seems. He breathes an aura of joy, just for this one second. This was a rare occasion, he always seemed miserable. The only time he'd even  _seem_ happy was when we'd lay in bed alone together. I recall memories of our first few months of doing this. We would lay together in a dirty, cheap motel room, his scrawny arms would be wrapped around my waist. We would mumble sweet nothings all night, long enough to see the sunrise. I wonder if those sweet moments will ever come back to us.

"I love you," His sound breaks the stillness of the train car, "Don't think I'd have made it without, Dave."

My cheeks dimple, though it doesn't hold strong. I hate how his own brain makes him hate himself sometimes. Wish he'd drop the suicide shit.

"Love you more, Kurt," I reply, "I'm not going anywhere, okay? We're ride or dies."

He replies with a soft murmur of something I can't understand, he speaks too lowly and the noise from the train overrides his words. His eyes droop as his body still leans against mine, I don't even realize he's feeling tired until I look over and see him completely inert on my shoulder. Another soft smile clasps my lips as I watch him sleep soundly.

"Love you so much," I let my lips caress his forehead, "I really do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck at updating this, I know, but the next chapter will be a fill for a request of some Stone and Eddie fluff. I'm really trying my best to update this regularly.


	5. Water - Stone x Eddie

Day Five Prompt: Water  
Pairing: Stone Gossard x Eddie Vedder  
POV: Eddie Vedder's

~•~

Waves crash against the shore, I can see their naturalistic beauty from our shared bedroom's window. Our own private stretch of beach, it seems. No one walks along the sandy shores, it remains untouched and natural. A few months ago I had convinced my lover, Stone, to move down to Hawaii. He was so skeptical at first, I don't blame him. Seattle was his home for his whole life, Hawaii was so different in culture and landscape.

Warming my still sleepy body is a cup of mocha, the steam blows in my face. I feel his arms wrap against my waist, his head rests against a crook on my shoulder. His lips press into my cheek, the stubble that's grown overnight tickles and itches at my skin.

"Good morning," I speak softly, "I thought you would've slept in."

"Nope," He breathes deeply, "You made coffee, you know I can't sleep when that  _nectar_ is around."

I giggle childishly as his lips drift down and kiss the gentle skin of my neck. Goosebumps raise across my sunkissed skin. I move my coffee cup to my non-dominate hand then I bring the now free hand up to touch his face. He leans into my touch, softly purring as I cuddle my hand into his cheek.

"I brewed enough for two," I tell him, "I can make you a cup."

"I'd love that," He finishes his words with yet another soft kiss against my flesh, "I'll come with you."

I turn, his arms are still knit to my hips. We walk together, Stone lags behind as his arms finally detach and hang from his shoulders. Our kitchen is lit by the pouring sunlight. Our windows are open and the smell of saltwater and sand sweetens the air. We enter the kitchen, passing the fridge and diverting our attention to the black coffee pot.

"You want room for cream?" I know him better though, he likes his coffee black. He always says something like 'I need it as black as my soul,' he's such a dumbass sometimes.

"Do you really need to ask?" His eyes rolls ironically, a simple grin plasters itself on his thin, kissable lips.

I stare at him while pouring his cup, I almost overfill it and a tad of coffee slips from the pot and burns my hand. I hiss, though I'm not really in pain. Stone laughs at my misfortune, as always. Then his lips are against mine, his tongue presses into mine. Our hands touch as he takes the coffee mug from my hand, his fingers are soft against my skin.

"Love you, Edward," He nearly snarks, "You weirdo."

"I'm not a weirdo—"

"Yes you are."

"Nope."

"Mhm."

Our little argument continues for a few more seconds until I finally give in. I glare at him between my eyelashes, he wears the cockiest grin yet. I stand up on my tippy toes to kiss his lips once more. Our coffee-stained lips dance and twist, making a mix of mocha and pike place brew coffee.

"We should go down to the beach," Stone proposed once our lips leave each other, "Your skin looks beautiful out in the sun."

"Well," A shrug follows, "The beach is always there."

I motion towards the door that leads to our patio. The waves continue to barrel and crash into the millions of small rocks that make up the beach. The white sand glows in the mid morning sun. His hands wrap around my waist again, careful not to spill his cup of coffee though. Again his lips touch mine, with the same velocity as the waves just outside crash into one another.

Then we leave. I take his free hand and drag him towards our patio. He giggles and cackles at how stupid I must look. I drag him still down our wooden steps, our bare feet touch the sand finally. He spills a bit of his coffee on the sand, painting it a dark brown now.

"Eddie, chill." He can't help but laugh.

"C'mon," I drag him once again, "I can't wait forever."

We find a place to lay in the pearl white sand. The beach was clean. Clean and free of people. Just like us two enjoyed. His arms cradle my waist, complimenting the curves embroidered in my skin. His lips press against mine, I reciprocate his actions with feverish movements.

"Stone?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I love you."

"Love you more, Edward."

"What have I told you about calling me that?"

"Something about you not liking it. Dunno. It's cute the way you blush when I say that though."

"Just shut up and kiss me again."

And he does. He kisses me with the same energy he held on the day of our first kiss. I suck in his breath, letting him fill my very being. At this moment, I realize, I am happy.

Happier than I've ever been.

~•~

A/N: Sorry for such a LONG time without an update!!!! Things have just been chaotic!!!

 


	6. Shopping - McCready x Ament

"I guess you have to ketchup, Jeff," Mike sneers down the aisle with a large, red tubing of Heinz ketchup in between his fingers. Jeff, who is down the opposite side, glares daggers towards his husband, "Stop loafing around!" Mike says again, this time gripping a seal bread loaf in his hands. Unaware that he's inadvertently smushing it down as he holds it skewed. Once more, he dashes over to the other side of the aisle and grabs a plastic container shaped like a bear. Golden liquid slowly dripping inside, "Honey! I'm glad to see you!"

 

Jeff rolls his eyes lazily, his lips dare to upturn and give Mike the satisfaction of knowing his puns seized a giggle from him, "Put that up," he says, "You're wasting time," He already knew the response that would come flying out of his husband's mouth, "We need to get to the deli section before it gets packed."

 

"But it's always packed, Jeff," Mike whines while reaching for a jar of grape jelly, "I guess we're in a bit of... a... jam."

 

"That's not jam, that's jelly," Jeff points out as he forcibly takes the jar and sets it back on the tray, "There's a difference. One is smooth like jelly. The other is thick," He explains though Mike wasn't truthfully listening, "I thought you knew that?"

 

"I did!" He barks, "But it was just for a pun... Not like you care."

 

Jeff's jaw hangs in an O shape. How dare he? The skin around his nose crinkles as a scowl takes hold, "I do care. It's funny seeing you be a nut, sometimes," And that was the truth. Simple shopping dates (if you could call them that) just wouldn't be the same without Mike's little seasoning of chaos, "Let's go get ice cream."

 

"But the deli—"

 

"I was just fooling with you about that," That was Jeff's tendency. To trick Mike with his petty errands to get him tied in a knot, "Let's get ice cream. Then coffee."

 

"Can we get the Starbucks brand this time?"

 

"Whatever you want," Jeff tells him. A hint of a smile teases along his teeth, "Did you remember to bring the list?" He asks as they start to walk down the aisle again. Mike's eyes go big for a moment. That telltale 'uh oh,' stage that Jeff always knew to look for, "Good thing I brought a back up," He snorts, "You always forget to bring it."

 

"Then why do you put me in charge of it?" Mike fiends a smirk, feeling ever-so-accomplished with himself. Jeff simply has to raise his brow in a certain curve to derail all that cockiness that built in a few moments.

 

"Because it's cute teasing you about it," His teeth grab hold of his bottom lip at the end of his sentence. A smile teases along the grasped lip, though it remains hidden for as long as it can. Mike's cheeks shine a rosy—yet oddly pastel—red underneath the grocery store's poor lighting, "Look at you. Just a cutie," Jeff reaches forward to pinch his cheekbone, "Grocery shopping wouldn't be fun without my baby."

 

"Not fair," Mike pouts in his own jejune way. His brows knit together just as he turns his cheek away from his husband. A mix between a scold and a pout melds across his features, "You always think I'm cute. It's just an excuse now."

 

"Very fair," He says with an upturn of his lip. The cart wheels rattle as they slowly, but surely, make their way towards the dairy aisle now, "It's not an excuse, it's the truth," They take a sudden detour down the coffee and tea aisle, "It's just a mitigation, honey. Don't take it to heart."

 

"You act like I even know what that word means," He says over his shoulder. Just as Jeff's mouth opens to retort, he opens a nearby coffee ground container and puts the rim near his husband's nose, "Smell this," He states, hoping to drive the conversation towards something else.

 

"Ooo~" Jeff sounds as the aroma fills his lungs. A twang of cocoa mixed with... something else that he can't put his finger on. Mike seals the jug again before placing it back onto the shelf with its kin, "What kind?"

 

"It's Arabian coffee," He responds without a glance or foreword. His hands already reach for the next jug down the line. Not a coffee, this time, but a plastic bin of tea leaves titled 'nectar & cinnamon.' It seemed the puns  wouldn't end so easily for Jeff's sake, "Quite the nectar, I must say."

 

"You're weird."

 

"But you still love me for it."


End file.
